Things in the world that are such, in their very own aspects, are not always as they seem. I am two types of a being and a mysterious third. A third that opens the inner universe of myself, to what character I will soon be as that of an individual and that of a wanderer. A wanderer that is lost in my imagination, yet aware of where I am in a mystical universe. Perhaps a universe not so mystical, and that of an unexplored landscape on the endless skies of discovery. The kind of discovery saying, "Is this it?" I will think, "Or is there something far greater to call for me? Is it really just me, or is there an endless nirvana in which I am yet to lay my shapeless body upon?" The eyes can only see what is in front of them, if one is to make it that way.